Fatal Secrets

by Barbara Phinney

  “And she’s engaged to Clay West?”

  “Yes. I saw their announcement online last week. It mentions that Clay was from Chicago.”

  Zane peered deeply into the photograph. “That kid looks about fourteen. Are you sure it’s him?”

  “I’m positive. The announcement mentioned that his parents were deceased and that he had lived at the Southside Foster Home in Chicago. That’s where my mother lived, but I wasn’t sure if their time there overlapped so I didn’t say anything. This looks like a younger version of him, all right.”

  She pulled out her phone and clicked a few buttons. “I still have Violet’s work number in my history. Here it is. She’ll know where I can find Clay.”

  Violet Kramer answered on the third ring. “Kramer.”

  Kristin quickly introduced herself, keeping the reason as concise as possible. “I need some information. I’m looking for my mother, Eloise Hill, and I have just realized that your fiancé knew her.”

  Violet went quiet. Kristin knew immediately that she’d hit the nail on the head. Finally, the feisty newswoman answered, “How did you find this out?”

  “The woman from the Southside Foster Home sent me a photograph, which has both Clay and my mom in it, though my mom was ready to age out at the time. Shortly after that, she gave birth to me, and about a year later, she disappeared.” Kristin clung to her cell phone. Please, Lord, have her help me.

  “And you’re calling me to locate Clay?”

  “I saw your engagement announcement in the paper and I don’t know if your editor told you but I’ve…well…I’ve been following your articles since you wrote about that Gwyn woman. I don’t know how else to contact Clay.”

  There was a short pause. “Kristin, I strongly urge you to rethink your search for your mother. Forget about her. I know that’s going to be hard, but believe me, it’s a whole lot safer for you and for your mother if you just drop your search completely.”

  Kristin’s heart sank. “I have a right to know my mother.”

  Violet softened. “I understand. But believe me, it can get you killed. And get your mother killed, too. When a person is put into the Witness Protection Program, it’s for a good reason. Mainly their own safety.”

  Kristin felt irritation rise in her. “I could save my mother’s life if I can find her. She saved mine once. This is the least I can do for her.”

  “No, you can’t save her life. I used to think that way, too,” she answered, her tone sharper. “I always thought that I could help people by disclosing the truth, but instead, I learned to trust the people in law enforcement. They know the right things to do.”

  Kristin had no idea what Violet’s words meant. What had changed her mind? Her fiancé? The reporter sounded as if she’d learned her lessons the hard way.

  She pulled in her breath and answered, “I understand. I know the risks. In fact, I’ve been face-to-face with them.”

  Violet’s tone changed immediately. “What do you mean?”

  So the woman was as sharp as she suspected. She scrambled to say something innocuous. “Nothing. In fact, it was probably just a coincidence.”

  “What could be a coincidence? What happened to you, Kristin?”

  She sighed and leaned back against the wall in the quiet foyer, avoiding Zane’s deepening frown. “I was pushed into traffic. I don’t know if was an accident or not.” Kristin held back the part of the swarthy men following her into that restaurant, preferring to keep the details to a minimum.

  “If your mother is hiding from the Mob, like most in the program are, you need to stop searching for her now,” Violet snapped. “These men aren’t playing a game here.”

  “I know. But I also know that my only link to my mother right now is your fiancé. I thought I could get a hold of you more easily than him. That maybe, after seeing that article you wrote, you’d understand and have him call me.”

  She was sounding desperate, but right then, she decided she needed to be firm. “Violet, Clay has met my mother. I’d like to talk to him. And after this winter, when my parents died, I’ve learned not to wait for a better, safer time. Because sometimes, it doesn’t come.”

  Kristin held her breath. She’d so rarely been this bold, and Violet was everything she wasn’t—smart, feisty and yet feminine.

  But this was too important. “Haven’t you ever lost someone dear to you?”

  Finally, Violet spoke. “I’ll ask Clay, but I can’t guarantee he’ll agree to talk to you. That time in the foster home was tough. He struggled after his parents died. He told me how Eloise made him feel welcome, and how she taught him to rise above life’s circumstances. Because of your mother’s courage, he decided to go into law enforcement.”

  Hope flared in her. Clay sounded like a man with integrity. Surely, he’d talk to her. “I understand,” she answered.

  The woman hung up, and slowly, Kristin closed her own phone. She turned to Zane. “So we see if he calls me back.”

  She looked down again at the envelope. “Imagine a man who knew my mother ending up in Montana. I hope he can help me.”

  Again, biting her lip, she found herself marveling at God’s hand. I am with you always. That verse was in the Bible, and today, it was taking on a stronger meaning.

  “This guy, Clay, was just another kid at that foster home. Your mother had her problems, and I imagine Clay did, too. And the overlap time they were there could have been only a few days.”

  Before she could answer, her phone rang. The soft music she’d loved so much when she’d chosen that ring-tone now cut her to the quick. “It must be him.”

  She took a deep breath and answered the phone. “Hello?”

  “Kristin Perry?”

  She guessed the deep voice immediately. “Clay West, I presume?”

  “Yes. Violet just called me. I’m sorry that you’ve had a scare. Did you call Jackson? He would want to know.”

  How did this police officer know Jackson? “No. But that’s not why I called. I have a photograph from Gladys Burrows, the woman who ran the foster home you lived in. I saw your name in the engagement announcement and hoped you were one and the same.”

  “Violet thought it would be uplifting to have the foster home’s name mentioned in the announcement.”

  She blew out a relieved sigh. He sounded willing to talk. “Do you remember the photo being taken?”

  “Barely. It wasn’t the best time in my life. I’d just lost my parents.”

  Kristin found herself nodding. “We’ve all had our rough spots. But you know why I’m calling. I need to find my mother, now more than ever.”

  “I don’t know where she is, Kristin. Jackson asked me that once, too, but I haven’t seen her since shortly after that picture was taken.”

  She’d steeled herself against that answer. “I know. But maybe you know something that can be helpful to me. Anything at all.”

  “I don’t. You should be leaving this up to Jackson. He’s doing his best to find your mother.”

  “I know, but I can’t just sit and wait,” she answered.

  “You’ll have to.”

  Kristin tightened her jaw. “Clay, you’re one of the few people who knew my mother. I’ve recently lost my adoptive parents and I have absolutely no one left in this world. Even if I don’t go looking for my mother, it would mean the world to me to talk to someone who knew her. Please, Clay, this is important to me.”

  Clay had been there at that foster home. He was orphaned or, at the very least, abandoned. Like she felt right now. He of all people must have known what it felt like.

  “All I want to do is talk to you, Clay,” she choked out, hating that the tears were starting again, and how it could sound like she was sobbing and crying fake tears to manipulate him.

  “I’m sorry,” she added hastily. “I don’t mean to sound so desperate.”

  There was another long pause. “It’s okay. Even Violet has been shaken up by all that has happened, so I can imagine you’d be, too.
” He sighed. “I doubt I can help you find your mother, and you should call Jackson, but if you want, we can meet.”

  He didn’t sound hopeful, but she’d take what she was offered. “Today?”

  “Sure.” He suggested a coffee shop close to the police station in downtown Missoula. After hanging up, she sniffed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get all blubbery.”

  Zane watched her closely. “It’s okay. So, he’s agreed to meet you?”

  “Yes.” She gave him the address, all the while wondering at the same time if she’d shoved any tissues into her purse. She couldn’t remember.

  “It’s been a long time since they were at that foster home. He probably can’t be of any help.”

  “I don’t care. I’ll take anything right now.”

  “What about Jackson? He knew your mother. She trusted him enough to give you to him.”

  She nodded. “Yes. He won’t say much about her, but I get the feeling that the connection they shared was special, too.” Her heart constricted at that thought. Had they been in love? How long had they known each other? They must have both been very young when Eloise got pregnant. Had they been intimate?

  “Kristin, Jackson sounds like he’s protecting you—”

  She snapped her head around. “Yes, I know! Everyone wants to protect me.” Her tone turned mocking. “Everyone tells me to trust Jackson, and not to do anything on my own, as if—”

  Her cell phone’s ring cut off her words. Scowling, she grabbed it and flipped it open. No ID available. Was this Clay canceling the meeting after having second thoughts?

  “Hello?”

  “Kristin?”

  Kristin sagged. It was Jackson. She should have realized that Clay West would call the FBI agent the second he hung up. “Yes, Jackson?” she said for Zane’s benefit.

  “Why didn’t you call me when you got pushed into traffic?”

  Word got around pretty quick, she thought dismally. Of course, she didn’t have to think hard at who had told Jackson. “It just happened yesterday. The police here say I was mistaken.”

  “Any witnesses?”

  “No one who’s talking. Everyone says they only saw me stumble.”

  She knew she should mention the men who’d followed them into the restaurant, but held back on that. She had no proof she’d been pushed, and no proof that the men at the restaurant wanted to hurt her. Jackson would need facts and evidence, not suspicions, even from a reliable source like Zane.

  Irritation in his voice ground through the phone. “Did anything I said yesterday sink in?”

  “Yes, but what am I supposed to do?” she answered back, feeling the frustration rise in her. “Just stand up, dust myself off and go home?”

  “Exactly.”

  A thought hit her. “A bump into traffic hardly sounds like a Mob hit.”

  “Gunning people down may be the method of choice, but these men will take any opportunity that presents itself. Look, I’m coming to Montana in a couple of days. I expect you to lie low, stay put and not look for your mother.” He definitely sounded angry. “Your parents protected you for a reason. Homeschooling, unlisted numbers, only the safest activities. They weren’t just for your father’s law practice. But you reporting what happened could have jeopardized all of that. Do you understand?”

  How did Jackson know she’d been homeschooled, and that her parents had rarely let her out of their sight? “No, I don’t understand. I was pushed into traffic and you are telling me to do nothing? What’s going on? You aren’t telling me everything. You say that this Martino guy has escaped custody and is looking for my mom and me. So how can my searching for her endanger her? If I’m discreet, and careful, they won’t know. And for that matter, who’s not to say that Martino isn’t following you, in your search for my mother?”

  She cut off her argument, hating that it came spilling out of her so suddenly. “I’m sorry, Jackson. I don’t mean to take it out on you.”

  He, too, softened immediately. “I understand. I really do. You must also understand that I have more training than you do and I have more resources available to me. I’m coming out there, so please hang on. I’ll update you then. I promise.”

  She blinked. “Okay.”

  She hung up shortly after, turning to Zane as she clicked shut her phone. “I’m expected to hang on, and do nothing. He’s coming out here and will explain everything.”

  “And your meeting with Clay West?”

  The thought of canceling it tightened around her chest, but she couldn’t sit home. And talking to a police officer that obviously had called the FBI agent moments ago wasn’t going to jeopardize her mother’s safety. Clay West would just be reminiscing about the past. That was hardly looking for her mother. Surely, she’d be safe talking to a police officer half a block from the police station?

  Kristin set her jaw and lifted her eyebrows. “I’m going to Missoula this afternoon. Want to come?”

  “I should put my mail in my office first. I haven’t been here for two days.”

  Relief washed through her. “I know I’m crazy to ask you this again, but does this mean you’re taking on my case?”

  He paused, looking as if he was giving himself one last chance to back out. Then, his eyes turning a cooler, steely color, he said, “Only if you tell me everything, not bits and pieces of nice, safe information. Are you willing to trust me now?”

  She wet her lips. Lord, should I? He’s not a believer, but he sounds sincere.

  “I’m serious, Kristin. I know that Jackson warned you not to say much, but that’s my deal. Either that or I call that FBI agent and tell him you’re doing as you please.”

  She studied his face, trying to size up his threat. “He’d be here in a flash, you know,” she whispered.

  “That’s my deal. Take it or leave it.”

  What choice did she really have? She had no desire to travel down to Missoula alone, and so far, Zane had shown his desire to help her. Nothing was going to come of her refusing to tell him everything.

  She ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing down the side of the white scar, all the time throwing a swift glance around the entrance. Several people were leaving the office building. “Okay. But, Zane, I don’t know much more than what I told you.”

  “Let me worry about that. You’d be surprised what rehashing things can do for the memory. You may know more than you realize.”

  She smiled. Zane could talk with Clay West.

  “Don’t be smiling like I’ve promised you the world, Kristin. Because there are still two men out there who appear to want you dead.”

  Her smile fell as they walked toward the small elevator. Zane was right. Clay may not know anything. So all the brilliant questions in the world wouldn’t do any good.

  And she’d be no further ahead in her search. Even Jackson hadn’t been able to find Eloise.

  Her heart lurched as she considered why that could be. Had those Martino mobsters found her mother first? And besides that, how was it that Jackson knew so much about her?

  The elevator door slid open at the second floor and she stepped out. “I was just thinking of something. Jackson knew I was homeschooled. I wonder how.”

  “How would he have known your parents?”

  “I don’t know. All he said was that he arranged for them to adopt me. They must have been friends or something, but they never mentioned him and he never visited. Just another thing I don’t know, yet.”

  “You can ask Jackson next time you’re talking to him.”

  She felt her eyes sting. “I don’t know if I even want to talk to him anymore, even if he promises to answer my questions. He doesn’t know where my mother is, and he tells me I’m in danger. I want to find my mother, but he keeps discouraging me from doing so.” She bit her lip. “I can’t stand the thought of not ever being able to meet her. I only just learn that she exists, right after my parents die, and then, I’m told to leave it all alone and wait until some distant time? It’s not fair.”<
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  Gone. Her parents, a mother that she so suddenly needed to find. All gone. She was expected just to carry on with her life. She started to walk again, following the little sign that discreetly pointed toward Zane’s office. She could feel his gaze on her back, and wondered what he thought of her. She missed being loved and cared about, but it would be sheer foolishness to expect understanding from Zane.

  Even though she wanted so desperately to know someone cared for her. Kristin found herself at a standstill in front of his office door, her feet heavy and her eyes beginning to water. Again.

  Mom and Dad, I miss you.

  Feeling foolish, she dug through her purse for a tissue, actually finding one this time, but her shaking hands couldn’t hang on to it. The tissue drifted to the floor in a still, dim hallway.

  “Here.” Zane stooped to retrieve it.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled, reaching out her hand to take it. “I’m sorry. I was thinking of how much my parents had protected me. They must have thought they were doing the right thing, but I guess they hadn’t counted on…” She sniffled. “You know, dying…”

  She reached out for the tissue Zane held. Where was it?

  But he didn’t hand it up to her. Instead, he stared at his door. She held out her hand, but he didn’t move.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My door is scratched. Mostly around the lock, but—” He cut off his sentence.

  She blinked back her tears and peered at him. “But what?”

  “Back up, Kristin. Nice and slowly.”

  She obeyed, taking only one step.

  “No, more. Two more, then turn and walk down the stairs and straight out the building and call 911.”

  “What’s going on, Zane?”

  He stared up at her, a somber look on his face. “My office door has been rigged to blow up.”

  SIX

  Kristin gasped. “Blow up! What do you mean?”

  “Explode. It’s got a trip wire strung across the bottom of the door. Someone has broken in and set something on the other side, and I don’t think it’s to turn on the lights. Now, do as I say. If you meet anyone else, tell them to leave the building immediately.”